That's a lovely way to put it keberoxu. My heart must be like a Swiss cheese after losing literally dozens of much-loved cats over the decades. It never gets any easier.

I've been thinking about Jon and his darling little Furball. So sad for him and his parents. Bless you Jon.

I did a daft thing today, but in a way I don't regret it. Remember the Evil white cat 'Spirit'? Well, he's getting quite thin, and another neighbour called Pearl was chatting to me yesterday and she reckons he's only fed in the evening when his owners get home (she lives next door to them) They have 3 dogs and another cat, and they all fight for a bit of grub.
So today he was mooching around and I took out a huge plate of cooked chicken breast and some best-quality cat food (the dish was piled high!) The poor little thing came running up and wolfed down the entire lot. While he ate, I sat on the bench and looked at him. He really is quite scrawny. He rubbed against me and chirruped.

Now that was silly of me, as he'll be haunting our garden now and possibly attacking our two elderly gentlemen. But I'm not turning away a very hungry little chap. We always have food to spare, as our two are constantly stuffed to the gunnels and spoilt rotten.

What do you think? Did I do wrong?